


Perfect

by Traxits



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Community: ff_exchange, Gen, Knight, Obsession, One Shot, Sorceress, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knight and his Sorceress have an incredible bond, an unbreakable bond. It survives, even through death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corollary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corollary/gifts).



> Rinoa, Edea, Seifer. Sorceress and knight meta -- one cannot exist without the other. Additionally: balance and growth, and the fact that Sorceresses are stagnant and unaging.

She was perfect exactly as she was, standing over him, her hand lightly resting in his hair. She twirled locks of his hair around her fingertip, and for one brief moment, his eyes closed as he felt her nails reaching down the nape of his neck, scratching, always scratching. There was the slightest prick of pain, but he didn't react; she wanted him to be hers completely, body, mind, and soul. If she marked him, if she _hurt_ him, it was her right. She was his _Sorceress_, and he her knight. They were one and the same.

So when she ordered his attacks, he did as commanded, reveling in the _rightness_ he got from filling her demands, from pleasing her. And when she smiled at him, curling her hand over his chin, those nails digging into his cheek just a little too roughly, pulling him closer to her, he was content to let her. His body was hers to do with as she wished; if she wanted him marked up and _proving_ his loyalty, he would without question.

She didn't change; even when she possessed Rinoa instead. He knew her instinctively, without being told. It hurt him, to be forced away from her while she used Squall-- her newest tool, the fool knight didn't even recognize that his sorceress was gone, replaced by Seifer's-- but he had endured. He'd had his orders, to fill her dreams, to prepare for her return. She would need him then, and he would be hers to command.

He licked his lips, standing in the middle of the Lunatic Pandora, his face turned up, his arms outstretched. They were moving it, and he was standing in the center, calling to her as only a knight could. She could hear him; she was coming back to him soon, and he could retake his place at her side-- her _feet_, some part of him sneered. He silenced the voice, knowing that she would be exactly the same; perfect. Endless. She was eternal, older than time itself, and she didn't have to allow for his wounded pride if she didn't wish to.

And yet, it had _hurt_ in a way he'd not been prepared for, to see Squall standing so proudly before Rinoa, as her protector, her defender, her _equal_. He had tried to do the same only once before _she_ had knocked him down, insisting that he retake his place at her feet. He was a child in her eyes, suitable only to be unleashed when she chose. The restraints, invisible though they were, chafed, and for the first time, he had felt the doubt. It was creeping, nagging, _aching_ inside him, making him question things he'd never once thought about before.

It was _their_ fault, he realized slowly. Squall's fault. _Rinoa's_ fault. If she would only have kept her knight properly at bay and used him the way she was supposed to, Seifer wouldn't have ever realized that there was anything wrong with his own position. He wouldn't hunger the way he did for something that he wasn't allowed to have. Children didn't pick their positions, after all; they were instructed in them, and they listened to their instructors.

When she arrived in Adel, everything was strained between them. Once more, nothing was different, except for him. It seemed that in their relationship, he was the one doomed to learn and change and make the mistakes for her. The one time he _did_ try to talk to her, she hit him, then pulled him close to her and whispered, "My child, let me think for us both, yes? It is better that way." And so help him, he agreed with her. He didn't want to think any more, didn't want to grow away from her. He wanted to grovel at her feet, beg her forgiveness, but he couldn't. He couldn't let himself.

He steeled himself instead and nodded to her, bowing to her will-- was there any other way? She was perfect, brilliant, and no matter how much he longed for her to be in Edea again, she had Adel. Adel was the prime host for her, powerful in ways that Edea could never reach. Only Rinoa was a threat to her, and thanks to him, Rinoa was trapped at her side, feeding her, giving her more power than anyone could imagine.

Then Squall arrived, and he killed her. Seifer knew there was more to it than that-- he'd _felt_ her, after all. He was her knight, and no matter how he grew, he would always be her knight. He coughed blood when she died, and he curled up, unable to think, unable to function without her. She was his life, his star, and with her gone, there was nothing left for him. He should have died; he _wanted_ to die. But Fujin's will was enough to rival even _hers_, and she demanded that he stay. He yielded to her, used to it by then.

Slowly, he dipped a foot in the water. It was warm, but that was to be expected. Summer was upon Balamb, and the waters right by the dock were always the first to heat up. He could hear Fujin and Raijin in the background, and he just turned his face to the sun. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear her voice, in all of the faces he'd seen her wear. He could hear her whispering to him, calling her knight to her side. She would always need him; always be his in the same way that he was hers. It was their way.

He smiled faintly, wondering what _her_ face looked like, his true sorceress. Her voice had been soft, even through their mouths, but he had liked it best when she spoke through Edea. Perhaps it was only childhood memories, but she had been the most comforting then. Perfect, ethereal, untouchable. She had petted him when she had been in Edea, touched his hair, caressed his face. He reached up a hand, touching his own cheek, his fingertips finding small white scars unerringly. The smallest of smiles crossed his face.

He was her knight. And she, she was his Sorceress.


End file.
